Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3) Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  I must be forgiven if I now introduce myself on the stage. SophiaWestwyn is the friend of Constantia, and the writer of this narrative.So far as my fate was connected with that of my friend, it is worthy tobe known. That connection has constituted the joy and misery of myexistence, and has prompted me to undertake this task.

  I assume no merit from the desire of knowledge and superiority totemptation. There is little of which I can boast; but that little Iderived, instrumentally, from Constantia. Poor as my attainments are, itis to her that I am indebted for them all. Life itself was the gift ofher father, but my virtue and felicity are her gifts. That I am neitherindigent nor profligate, flows from her bounty.

  I am not unaware of the divine superintendence,--of the claims upon mygratitude and service which pertain to my God. I know that all physicaland moral agents are merely instrumental to the purpose that he wills;but, though the great Author of being and felicity must not beforgotten, it is neither possible nor just to overlook the claims uponour love with which our fellow-beings are invested.

  The supreme love does not absorb, but chastens and enforces, allsubordinate affections. In proportion to the rectitude of my perceptionsand the ardour of my piety, must I clearly discern and fervently lovethe excellence discovered in my fellow-beings, and industriously promotetheir improvement and felicity.

  From my infancy to my seventeenth year, I lived in the house of Mr.Dudley. On the day of my birth I was deserted by my mother. Her temperwas more akin to that of tigress than woman. Yet that is unjust; forbeasts cherish their offspring. No natures but human are capable of thatdepravity which makes insensible to the claims of innocence andhelplessness.

  But let me not recall her to memory. Have I not enough of sorrow? Yet toomit my causes of disquiet, the unprecedented forlornness of mycondition, and the persecutions of an unnatural parent, would be toleave my character a problem, and the sources of my love of Miss Dudleyunexplored. Yet I must not dwell upon that complication of iniquities,that savage ferocity and unextinguishable hatred of me, whichcharacterized my unhappy mother.

  I was not safe under the protection of Mr. Dudley, nor happy in thecaresses of his daughter. My mother asserted the privilege of thatrelation: she laboured for years to obtain the control of my person andactions, to snatch me from a peaceful and chaste asylum, and detain mein her own house, where, indeed, I should not have been in want ofraiment and food; but where--

  O my mother! Let me not dishonour thy name! Yet it is not in my power toenhance thy infamy. Thy crimes, unequalled as they were, were perhapsexpiated by thy penitence. Thy offences are too well known; but perhapsthey who witnessed thy freaks of intoxication, thy defiance of publicshame, the enormity of thy pollutions, the infatuation that made theeglory in the pursuit of a loathsome and detestable trade, may bestrangers to the remorse and the abstinence which accompanied the closeof thy ignominious life.

  For ten years was my peace incessantly molested by the menaces ormachinations of my mother. The longer she meditated my destruction, themore tenacious of her purpose and indefatigable in her efforts shebecame. That my mind was harassed with perpetual alarms was not enough.The fame and tranquillity of Mr. Dudley and his daughter were hourlyassailed. My mother resigned herself to the impulses of malignity andrage. Headlong passions, and a vigorous though perverted understanding,were hers. Hence, her stratagems to undermine the reputation of myprotector, and to bereave him of domestic comfort, were subtle andprofound. Had she not herself been careless of that good which sheendeavoured to wrest from others, her artifices could scarcely have beenfrustrated.

  In proportion to the hazard which accrued to my protector and friend,the more ardent their zeal in my defence and their affection for myperson became. They watched over me with ineffable solicitude. At allhours and in every occupation, I was the companion of Constantia. All mywants were supplied in the same proportion as hers. The tenderness ofMr. Dudley seemed equally divided between us. I partook of hisinstructions, and the means of every intellectual and personalgratification were lavished upon me.

  The speed of my mother's career in infamy was at length slackened. Sheleft New York, which had long been the theatre of her vices. Actuated bya now caprice, she determined to travel through the Southern States.Early indulgence was the cause of her ruin, but her parents had givenher the embellishments of a fashionable education. She delighted toassume all parts, and personate the most opposite characters. She nowresolved to carry a new name, and the mask of virtue, into sceneshitherto unvisited.

  She journeyed as far as Charleston. Here she met an inexperienced youth,lately arrived from England, and in possession of an ample fortune. Herspeciousness and artifices seduced him into a precipitate marriage. Hertrue character, however, could not be long concealed by herself, and hervices had been too conspicuous for her long to escape recognition. Herhusband was infatuated by her blandishments. To abandon her, or tocontemplate her depravity with unconcern, were equally beyond his power.Romantic in his sentiments, his fortitude was unequal to hisdisappointments, and he speedily sunk into the grave. By a similarrefinement in generosity, he bequeathed to her his property.

  With this accession of wealth, she returned to her ancient abode. Themask lately worn seemed preparing to be thrown aside, and her profligatehabits to be resumed with more eagerness than ever; but an unexpectedand total revolution was effected, by the exhortations of a Methodistdivine. Her heart seemed, on a sudden, to be remoulded, her vices andthe abettors of them were abjured, she shut out the intrusions ofsociety, and prepared to expiate, by the rigours of abstinence and thebitterness of tears, the offences of her past life.

  In this, as in her former career, she was unacquainted with restraintand moderation. Her remorses gained strength in proportion as shecherished them. She brooded over the images of her guilt, till thepossibility of forgiveness and remission disappeared. Her treatment ofher daughter and her husband constituted the chief source of hertorment. Her awakened conscience refused her a momentary respite fromits persecutions. Her thoughts became, by rapid degrees, tempestuous andgloomy, and it was at length evident that her condition was maniacal.

  In this state, she was to me an object, no longer of terror, butcompassion. She was surrounded by hirelings, devoid of personalattachment, and anxious only to convert her misfortunes to their ownadvantage. This evil it was my duty to obviate. My presence, for a time,only enhanced the vehemence of her malady; but at length it was only bymy attendance and soothing that she was diverted from the fellestpurposes. Shocking execrations and outrages, resolutions and efforts todestroy herself and those around her, were sure to take place in myabsence. The moment I appeared before her, her fury abated, hergesticulations were becalmed, and her voice exerted only in incoherentand pathetic lamentations.

  These scenes, though so different from those which I had formerly beencondemned to witness, were scarcely less excruciating. The friendship ofConstantia Dudley was my only consolation. She took up her abode withme, and shared with me every disgustful and perilous office which mymother's insanity prescribed.

  Of this consolation, however, it was my fate to be bereaved. My mother'sstate was deplorable, and no remedy hitherto employed was efficacious. Avoyage to England was conceived likely to benefit, by change oftemperature and scenes, and by the opportunity it would afford of tryingthe superior skill of English physicians. This scheme, after variousstruggles on my part, was adopted. It was detestable to my imagination,because it severed me from that friend in whose existence mine wasinvolved, and without whose participation knowledge lost its attractionsand society became a torment.

  The prescriptions of my duty could not be disguised or disobeyed, and weparted. A mutual engagement was formed to record every sentiment andrelate every event that happened in the life of either, and noopportunity of communicating information was to be omitted. Thisengagement was punctually performed on my part. I sought out everymethod of conveyance to my friend, and took infinite pains to procuretid
ings from her; but all were ineffectual.

  My mother's malady declined, but was succeeded by a pulmonary disease,which threatened her speedy destruction. By the restoration of herunderstanding, the purpose of her voyage was obtained, and my impatienceto return, which the inexplicable and ominous silence of my friend dailyincreased, prompted me to exert all my powers of persuasion to induceher to revisit America.

  My mother's frenzy was a salutary crisis in her moral history. Shelooked back upon her past conduct with unspeakable loathing, but thisretrospect only invigorated her devotion and her virtue; but the thoughtof returning to the scene of her unhappiness and infamy could not beendured. Besides, life, in her eyes, possessed considerable attractions,and her physicians flattered her with recovery from her present disease,if she would change the atmosphere of England for that of Languedoc andNaples.

  I followed her with murmurs and reluctance. To desert her in her presentcritical state would have been inhuman. My mother's aversions andattachments, habits and views, were dissonant with my own. Conformity ofsentiments and impressions of maternal tenderness did not exist to bindus to each other. My attendance was assiduous, but it was the sense ofduty that rendered my attendance a supportable task.

  Her decay was eminently gradual. No time seemed to diminish her appetitefor novelty and change. During three years we traversed every part ofFrance, Switzerland, and Italy. I could not but attend to surroundingscenes, and mark the progress of the mighty revolution, whose effects,like agitation in a fluid, gradually spread from Paris, the centre, overthe face of the neighbouring kingdoms; but there passed not a day or anhour in which the image of Constantia was not recalled, in which themost pungent regrets were not felt at the inexplicable silence which hadbeen observed by her, and the most vehement longings indulged to returnto my native country. My exertions to ascertain her condition byindirect means, by interrogating natives of America with whom I chancedto meet, were unwearied, but, for a long period, ineffectual.

  During this pilgrimage, Rome was thrice visited. My mother'sindisposition was hastening to a crisis, and she formed the resolutionof closing her life at the bottom of Vesuvius. We stopped, for the sakeof a few days' repose, at Rome. On the morning after our arrival, Iaccompanied some friends to view the public edifices. Casting my eyesover the vast and ruinous interior of the Coliseum, my attention wasfixed by the figure of a young man whom, after a moment's pause, Irecollected to have seen in the streets of New York. At a distance fromhome, mere community of country is no inconsiderable bond of affection.The social spirit prompts us to cling even to inanimate objects, whenthey remind us of ancient fellowships and juvenile attachments.

  A servant was despatched to summon this stranger, who recognised acountrywoman with a pleasure equal to that which I had received. Onnearer view, this person, whose name was Courtland, did not belie myfavourable prepossessions. Our intercourse was soon established on afooting of confidence and intimacy.

  The destiny of Constantia was always uppermost in my thoughts. Thisperson's acquaintance was originally sought chiefly in the hope ofobtaining from him some information respecting my friend. On inquiry, Idiscovered that he had left his native city seven months after me.Having tasked his recollection and compared a number of facts, the nameof Dudley at length recurred to him. He had casually heard the historyof Craig's imposture and its consequences. These were now related ascircumstantially as a memory occupied by subsequent incidents enabledhim. The tale had been told to him, in a domestic circle which he wasaccustomed to frequent, by the person who purchased Mr. Dudley's luteand restored it to its previous owner on the conditions formerlymentioned.

  This tale filled me with anguish and doubt. My impatience to search outthis unfortunate girl, and share with her her sorrows or relieve them,was anew excited by this mournful intelligence. That Constantia Dudleywas reduced to beggary was too abhorrent to my feelings to receivecredit; yet the sale of her father's property, comprising even hisfurniture and clothing, seemed to prove that she had fallen even to thisdepth. This enabled me in some degree to account for her silence. Hergenerous spirit would induce her to conceal misfortunes from her friendwhich no communication would alleviate. It was possible that she hadselected some new abode, and that, in consequence, the letters I hadwritten, and which amounted to volumes, had never reached her hands.

  My mother's state would not suffer me to obey the impulse of my heart.Her frame was verging towards dissolution. Courtland's engagementsallowed him to accompany us to Naples, and here the long series of mymother's pilgrimages closed in death. Her obsequies were no soonerperformed, than I determined to set out on my long-projected voyage. Mymother's property, which, in consequence of her decease, devolved uponme, was not inconsiderable. There is scarcely any good so dear to arational being as competence. I was not unacquainted with its benefits,but this acquisition was valuable to mo chiefly as it enabled me toreunite my fate to that of Constantia.

  Courtland was my countryman and friend. He was destitute of fortune, andhad been led to Europe partly by the spirit of adventure, and partly ona mercantile project. He had made sale of his property on advantageousterms, in the ports of France, and resolved to consume the produce inexamining this scene of heroic exploits and memorable revolutions. Hisslender stock, though frugally and even parsimoniously administered, wasnearly exhausted; and, at the time of our meeting at Rome, he was makingreluctant preparations to return.

  Sufficient opportunity was afforded us, in an unrestrained and domesticintercourse of three months, which succeeded our Roman interview, togain a knowledge of each other. There was that conformity of tastes andviews between us which could scarcely fail, at an age and in a situationlike ours, to give birth to tenderness. My resolution to hasten toAmerica was peculiarly unwelcome to my friend. He had offered to be mycompanion, but this offer my regard to his interest obliged me todecline; but I was willing to compensate him for this denial, as well asto gratify my own heart, by an immediate marriage.

  So long a residence in England and Italy had given birth to friendshipsand connections of the dearest kind. I had no view but to spend my lifewith Courtland, in the midst of my maternal kindred, who were English. Avoyage to America and reunion with Constantia were previouslyindispensable; but I hoped that my friend might be prevailed upon, andthat her disconnected situation would permit her to return with me toEurope. If this end could not be accomplished, it was my inflexiblepurpose to live and die with her. Suitably to this arrangement,Courtland was to repair to London, and wait patiently till I should beable to rejoin him there, or to summon him to meet me in America.

  A week after my mother's death, I became a wife, and embarked the nextday, at Naples, in a Ragusan ship, destined for New York. The voyage wastempestuous and tedious. The vessel was necessitated to make a shortstay at Toulon. The state of that city, however, then in possession ofthe English and besieged by the revolutionary forces, was adverse tocommercial views. Happily, we resumed our voyage on the day previous tothat on which the place was evacuated by the British. Our seasonabledeparture rescued us from witnessing a scene of horrors of which thehistory of former wars furnishes us with few examples.

  A cold and boisterous navigation awaited us. My palpitations andinquietudes augmented as we approached the American coast. I shall notforget the sensations which I experienced on the sight of the Beacon atSandy Hook. It was first seen at midnight, in a stormy and becloudedatmosphere, emerging from the waves, whose fluctuation allowed it, forsome time, to be visible only by fits. This token of approaching landaffected me as much as if I had reached the threshold of my friend'sdwelling.

  At length we entered the port, and I viewed, with high-raised butinexplicable feelings, objects with which I had been from infancyfamiliar. The flagstaff erected on the Battery recalled to myimagination the pleasures of the evening and morning walks which I hadtaken on that spot with the lost Constantia. The dream was fondlycherished, that the figure which I saw loitering along the terrace washers.

  On d
isembarking, I gazed at every female passenger, in hope that it wasshe whom I sought. An absence of three years had obliterated from mymemory none of the images which attended me on my departure.